


Jenna and Paul Discover (and Misunderstand) Kink Memes; or How Liz Lemon Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

by moemachina



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: Age Play, Breathplay, Competence Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme, Meta, Mpreg, Oral Fixation, Other, Pon Farr, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tentacles, Watersports, Xeno, delayed gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moemachina/pseuds/moemachina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a truth universally acknowledged that Jenna and Paul are the most romantic couple in television history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jenna and Paul Discover (and Misunderstand) Kink Memes; or How Liz Lemon Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lettersandsodas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersandsodas/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, dummy.

****

**DELAYED GRATIFICATION**

"Hey, blossom, is this my corset or yours?"

Jenna frowned distractedly up from her laptop. "Hmm?" 

Paul was holding up a pink effusion of lace and whalebone. "It's just, there's a stain here, and it's either hamburger grease or blood. Yours?"

Jenna squinted. "Mine, but you wore it last. Remember? Because you hadn't done laundry, and you were running late."

"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle! I had totally forgotten about that night! Yes, of course. To the Oxy-Clean!" Paul bustled back to the kitchen, and she could hear him humming contentedly as he set about the soaking process. 

"Paul," she called out, "have you ever heard of a...a kink meme?"

Paul poked his head through the doorway. "A kink what? Is that one of those new sorts of Japanese real-dolls?" 

"No..." Jenna said. "It's just a list. It's just like a...checklist." 

Paul came to stand beside her and peered down at her screen. "Tumblr?" 

"It's tum- _blah_ ," Jenna said absently.

"Are those...hobbits?"

"That's just one permutation. See! There's also plushies...double amputees...caning..."

"Golly!"

Jenna looked up at him. "Paul, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Maybe. Let's say it at the same time and see what happens!"

 

****

**TEACHER-STUDENT**

Liz had a Pop-Tart in her mouth and her keys in her hand when a noise, dimly heard, made her pause.

"Tracy?" she called out, jamming the keys into the door's lock and the Pop-Tart into her cardigan's pocket. "Are you Googling yourself again in there? Because we talked about that, Tracy!"

There was silence. Liz weighed her options and her current mental resilience (already tested by a lack of coffee and a guy with a ukelele on the subway) before she turned the key.

Her office was dark. But not dark enough.

"Oh, god," Liz cried. "What are you guys doing here?"

Paul looked up from her office whiteboard, which was now covered in mathematical equations. "Oh, hi, Liz! Good morning!"

"You're early," Jenna said, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. She was sitting cross-legged on top of Liz's desk and wearing an extremely short plaid skirt. "Why are you so early? Did that pizza place by your apartment start giving out those free samples again?" 

" _No_ ," Liz said with exasperation. "Like I told you before, that was the result of a simple misunderstanding, and they stopped giving me those samples when they realized that I was not actually homeless. I'm here early because I need to work on that Nelson Mandela sketch for tomorrow's show. Because this is _my office_. Why are _you_ here so early? And why are you doing...long division?"

"We're doing kink bingo," Paul said. "Right now, we're checking off the square for 'Teacher-Student Relationship.'" 

"Paul is the teacher," Jenna said helpfully. "And I am hoping that he can overlook my bad, bad math scores in exchange for me being a bad, bad girl." 

"Oh, I _will_ overlook those math scores," Paul said in a deep voice. "But first we need to review some of the rudimentary features of fractions."

"Oh, but fractions are _so hard_ ," Jenna squeaked.

"Not as hard as some other things you're going to see," Paul said, "such as binomial denominators."

Liz took a deep breath. "Fine. Whatever. What I don't understand is _why_ you picked my office for this."

"Don't be silly, Liz! Where else were we going to find staplers at this hour?"

"Out!" Liz shrieked. "Out of my office! And leave that stapler!"

 

****

**ORAL FIXATION**

Liz was scowling at her e-mail when Pete knocked on the frame of her open door. "Mornin', Liz. I've got a quick question."

"Is it about Frank's idea for 'modern woman travels through time and solves crimes in seventeenth-century New Amsterdam?' Because I already told him no." 

"Personally, I think 'Teepee Hollow' has potential," Pete said. "But no, I'm not here for that. Did you tell Tracy that he could install an aquarium in the janitor's closet?"

Liz looked up from her spam folder (" _CONGRATULATION YOU HAVE WON KINDLY OPEN ATTACHMENT_ ") and gave Pete a long, dangerous look. "Do I look like someone who would tell Tracy that?" 

"No," Pete said. "I mean, if you asked me, you look like a woman with half a Pop-Tart in your front pocket." He smirked at her. "But how do you want me to handle the aquarium? Because the janitors are getting restless, and after the incident with Lutz and the third-floor toilets, we need to keep the janitors on our side." 

Liz pushed herself back from her desk. "I'll take care of it. I need to talk to Tracy anyway." After a second of thought, she removed the Pop-Tart from her cardigan and put in her desk drawer. 

"You'll forget it there," Pete chirped from the doorway. 

"I won't," Liz said. 

"Yes, you will. You'll leave it in your desk, and on the way home, you'll reach into your purse and realize that you forgot it. 'Hornberger!' you'll cry. 'If only I had listened to Hornberger!'"

"Oh, shut up," Liz said. "It was breakfast. It was interrupted. Because of Jenna." She gave him a wry look. "Do you want details?" 

"No," Pete said immediately. "Wait, maybe. Was the Pop-Tart...involved?" His expression was almost hopeful. 

"Ew, gross," Liz said. "Forget it, no details." 

"So what you're saying is yes," Pete said, walking backwards as she shooed him out of her doorway. 

"No, and stop it, because I want to be able to eat Pop-Tarts in the future," Liz said. "I get most of my vitamins from Pop-Tarts. Which janitor's closet has Tracy commandeered?" 

"The one down by craft services," Pete said. "Come on, I'll show you." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Have you ever heard of scurvy, Liz?" 

"Har har," Liz said. 

"How's the Nelson Mandela sketch going?" 

Liz wrinkled her nose. "Not great. Can you think of anything that rhymes with _apartheid_?" 

 

****

**TENTACLES**

Liz banged on the door to Tracy's dressing room.

Grizz opened the door. "Good morning, Beth." 

"Good morning, Grizz," Liz said, and she could not quite keep her voice from going breathless. She took a deep breath and nodded at the other two men in the room. "Morning, Dot Com. Tracy, can I have a word with you?" 

"Liz Lemon!" Tracy cried with delight. "Come in! Maybe you want to join our game? I'm teaching Grizz and Dot Com how to play Scrabble!" 

"Oh, yeah?" Liz said, stepping warily into the room. "Scrabble, huh?"

"We're having a tough time beating Tracy," Grizz said without inflection. 

"He's truly a superlative player," Dot Com said without expression. 

From where she was standing, Liz could see the Scrabble board and some of its played words: XWAIF, IUQKFJ, and QPPI. 

"I'm not sure why people are always complaining about this game," Tracy was saying. "It's so easy. You just pick the letters with the highest numbers and _voila_." 

"I _see_ ," Liz said. "Look, Tracy, I'm sorry to interrupt your game, but I wanted to check and see if you put...a water tank and an _octopus_ in the janitor's closet?" 

"His name is Charles," Dot Com observed. 

"Tracy, you can't keep one of your pets in the janitor's closet." 

Tracy frowned up at her. "Since when, Liz Lemon?" 

Liz snorted. "Since always, Tracy." She was suddenly aware of Grizz and Dot Com exchanging a glance. "Wait, what? Do you have other animals in the building?" 

"Of course not, Liz Lemon. We especially did not put a python in the air-conditioning vent." 

"His name was also Charles," Dot Com said. "I mean...his name was _not_ Charles." 

Liz took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "What we are going to do _right now_ is take your octopus out of the janitor's closet. And _then_ we are going to notify the head of building maintenance about a _roaming snake_."

"It'll be nice to see Charles again," Tracy said dreamily. At Liz's expression, he hastily added, "Charles the Octopus, I mean. Not Not-Charles the Not-Snake." 

" _Come_ ," Liz barked. 

She marched Tracy down the hall, and Grizz and Dot Com trailed in their wake at a judicious distance. As they neared the octopus-infested closet, Liz began to hear noises. Sloshing noises.

"That's funny," Tracy said. "Charles isn't normally noisy. Sometimes, at night, I just go into his room and hang over his tank until I can hear him breathe." 

"Uh huh," Liz said, stopping outside the closed door. She could hear a low murmur, a moan, and more sloshing. "Tracy," she said, seized by a sudden horrifying thought. "Who else knows that your octopus is here?" 

"Just Jenna," Tracy said. 

From the closet, a high-pitched voice said, _"Ohhhh yes, right there, sooooo inky_."

"Oh, god," Liz said. She started hammering on the door. "Jenna! Paul! Come out right now!" 

There was silence, and then the door of the closet creaked open an inch, and Liz saw Paul's eye peering out. 

"Hey, Liz! Good morning!" 

"What are you two doing in there?" Liz hissed. 

"Well, we're still going through our kink list--" Paul started to say. 

" _An octopus is on your perverted list??_ "

"Well, it's a matter of some interpretation," Paul said with injured dignity. 

"You can't have sex with an animal," Liz cried. "You just can't! It's illegal and immoral and _unhygienic_ and--" 

"Oh, Liz," said an unseen Jenna. "We're not having sex with the octopus." 

"What are you two doing, then?" 

"Liz, obviously we're just having sex _while the octopus watches_." 

"Oh, _god_. Come out of there. No, wait. Put your clothes on. _Then_ come out of there." 

She released an exasperated sigh and then realized that Tracy was grinning at her impishly. "Is this okay with you?" she asked. "Your octopus being used in their sex games?" 

Tracy shrugged. "Jenna asked me for permission." 

"You knew this was happening? You knew this was happening _and let me walk down here anyway_?" 

Tracy regarded her with an innocent expression. "They took longer than I thought they would. And why do you think I brought Charles into the office today, anyway?" 

"That's disgusting," Liz said. 

"Be more tolerant, Liz Lemon. Octopuses have needs too, and Charles likes to watch." 

" _Yeah_ he does," they heard Paul say from inside the closet. 

"Enough!" Liz wailed. 

 

****

**AGE PLAY**

It was only eleven o'clock in the morning. Liz had to keep reminding herself of that fact, because she could not quite believe it.

She was pouring herself a cup of coffee at the craft-services table when Jack found her. 

"Lemon," he said. "Who was that hag-like crone in the costume department this morning? You haven't been casting guest appearances behind my back again, have you? Because I will not stand for a repeat of that unfortunate Shelley Long incident."

Liz closed her eyes wearily. "Was she wearing old-age makeup, by any chance?" 

"Lemon, I have seen leprosy victims with better skin tone than that woman."

"It's Jenna," Liz said. "She's in the middle of some absurd sex game. I don't even know. I don't think anyone can stop her."

She heard a sharp inhale of breath. "Good god, Lemon."

"What?" she said, not opening her eyes.

"A man just passed us. He was dressed like a Boy Scout. In a diaper. And I think he was holding...is that a _placenta_?"

"Ah," Liz said. "That was probably Paul."

 

****

**WATERSPORTS**

"Jenna, this has to stop."

Jenna reached for another bottle of water at the craft-services table. "I don't know what you're talking about, Lemon."

"Jenna, _this is a place of work_. We have to do work here! You can't disrupt our workday like this, and we can't be used as...as...as _props_ in your sexual shenanigans!"

Paul wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Liz, we would both be totally willing to incorporate you more fully into what we're doing."

"Ugh, that's not what I meant! Gross!" 

"What are they doing?" Kenneth asked, wide-eyed. "And why are they so thirsty?" 

Liz groaned. "You don't want to know, Kenneth."

"Should I bring them some more punch?"

" _No_ ," Liz cried.

 

****

**XENO**

"Come on, Liz," Frank said. "It's a funny idea." The front of his hat read JABBA THE MUTT.

"No," Liz said. "It's just kind of racist." 

"Well, let's put a different spin on it," Toofer said. "Instead of a woman going back in time, it'll be about a man named Crane coming forward in time. A man named _Hart_ Crane." 

There was silence from the other writers. 

"Just picture it," Toofer said, spreading his fingers across the tabletop. "One is a street-smart lady-cop; the other is a tortured Modernist poet from the early twentieth century. _Together they fight crime_."

The writers stared at him. 

"Why stop there?" Frank asked wearily. "Are you sure we can't shoehorn some sort of _Red Badge of Courage_ joke in there?"

"Instead," Sue said, "maybe the sketch should be about a construction crane that travels through time." 

"Or a crane _game_ ," Lutz said. 

"Oooh, ooh," Frank said. " _Or_ about a radio psychiatrist from Seattle who travels a decade into the future and dodges demons while searching for the perfect espresso." 

"Or--" Lutz started to say before he was interrupted by a peculiar, undulating scream. 

"What the hell," Liz said as Jenna cartwheeled into the room. 

She was wearing a black wig, a leather dress, and knee-high boots. There was a sword from the prop room strapped to her back. 

Kenneth walked into the room behind her, anxiously focused on a printed sheet in his hand. "In a time of ancient gods, warlords and kings," he solemnly intoned, the gravity of his delivery only slightly undercut by his Southern twang, "a land in turmoil cried out for a hero." 

Kenneth was followed by Cerie, who was carrying a cardboard tray of coffee for the writers. She regarded Jenna with a bored expression.

Jenna sprang to her feet and brandished a plastic plate over her head. "Ai-yi-yi-yi!"

"She was Xena, a mighty princess forged in the heat of battle!" Kenneth cried. 

Jenna flung the plastic plate as if it were a frisbee. It hit Lutz in the forehead.

"Jesus!" said Lutz. 

"The power," said Kenneth. 

"Jenna, what are you doing?" Liz asked in a tone of despair. 

"The passion," said Kenneth. 

"Liz, I could be wrong," Frank said, "but I'm pretty sure she's Xena. Warrior Princess." 

"The danger," said Kenneth. "Her courage will change the world." 

Liz snorted. "Oh, come _on_. Now you're just making things up." 

Jenna had been writhing around with her sword, but now she stopped and straightened indignantly. "Oh, no. It's part of the list." 

"Your sex-game list has _Xena_ on it?" Liz asked. 

Jenna's mouth compressed. "You don't believe me? Fine. Paul!" 

Paul came running into the room. He was wearing a long red wig and a midriff-baring dress. "Blossom? But I thought--"

"Paul, _someone_ doesn't believe that we're following the list." 

Paul blinked. "Oh, but I have it right here." He reached into his cleavage -- and Frank and Toofer made a collective noise that was half-startled, half-aroused -- and pulled out a much-folded sheet of paper. "Here it is. Xena. Right there." 

Cerie, still standing patiently by the door, peered over his shoulder. "Well, actually that says Xen _o_." 

Jenna lowered her sword completely. "Xeno? What's xeno?" 

Paul squinted at the paper. "Maybe it's a typo?" 

At the table, Frank started to laugh. "Dude," he said, "it's short for xenophilia. You know. _Animals._ "

"To be precise, anything non-human," Toofer said primly, folding his hands before him. He grimaced as the rest of the writers swung their heads around to regard him. "So it could comprise aliens and monsters and the like as well." 

"Yeah, it could," Frank said with a lusty sigh. "Like that chick with three boobs in _Total Recall_." 

Sue gave an equally lusty sigh. 

"Or all the busty green-skinned alien ladies in _Star Trek_ ," Toofer said. 

"What about robots?" Liz asked. "Because that C-3PO, _hum-una hum-una_ , you know?" 

Toofer laughed. "I think it's a fetish that focuses on organic creatures. But what about Frankenstein? He's a built man." 

"Not verbal enough," Liz said. "Not enough whining." 

"Oh, come on, Liz," Frank said. "What about a really well-endowed Frankenstein?" He paused for a moment. "That should be a sketch. _The Well-Endowed Frankenstein_." 

"I think _Young Frankenstein_ already beat us to that joke," Liz said. 

"Or what about..." Toofer hummed as he leaned back in his chair. "A sex therapist for monsters? A sex support-group for monsters?" 

"Frankenstein can't get it up," Frank said. "Dracula and premature ejaculation." 

"Werewolves who can't knot," Lutz said. 

"What's knotting?" Frank asked. 

"Did I say knotting?" Lutz said wildly. "I meant knitting. Knitting!" 

Meanwhile, Jenna and Paul were in the middle of a heated discussion. 

"--but it doesn't count," Jenna was saying breathlessly. 

"Well, but look here...this counts for...hmm...well, 'subtext' is here, this could count for that..."

Jenna pouted. "But I thought we were going to have sex under some books for that one." 

"Okay," Liz growled, "we have to finish doing our jobs, and you two _need to leave_ so we can do our jobs."

Jenna tossed her black hair in exasperation. "Of course, Liz. We're on a tight schedule here! Wingfic isn't going to do itself!"

Liz waited until Jenna and Paul had left the room before she asked, "So what's wingfic?" 

The other writers cast covert glances at one another. 

"You might want to get the prop room locked," Sue said. 

"Also any doors that lead out to the roof," Frank said. 

"Ugh," Liz groaned. 

 

****

**BREATH PLAY**

"Are you sure we got this one right, blossom?" Paul carefully knotted off his balloon and placed it next to his chair.

"Pretty sure," Jenna said. "I mean, what else could it be?" She stretched out a new balloon and began to carefully blow into it. 

"I guess," Paul said. "And it's certainly festive!" 

"And very sexually arousing, of course," Jenna said resolutely. She tied her balloon into a dog-shape. 

Paul smiled tenderly at her. "Of course, blossom." 

 

****

**PON FARR**

Liz was inserting nickels into the vending machine when she saw a flicker of movement on the stairwell from the corner of her eye. She hastily jammed in the last nickel, collected her Doritos-flavored Cheetos, and jogged over to the stairs.

"Hey, Jenna," she called. "If you're going up to the roof, we locked that door too." 

There was a moment of silence, and then Jenna's head appeared over the railing from above. "Who says I am going to the roof?" 

"All the nerds who work for me," Liz said. She felt a flash of surprise that Jenna had managed to climb the stairs so quickly. 

"Well, they are in error," Jenna said sweetly as she began to descend the stairs toward Liz. "In fact, trying to get to the roof would be...most illogical." 

Jenna rounded the bend in the stairs, and Liz peered up at her suspiciously. "Are you wearing elf-ears?" 

"No!" Jenna said indignantly. She gave a long exhalation and straightened to her full height. "No," she said again in a deeper, slower voice. "These are not elf-ears. These are the characteristics of my native species, Liz."

"And you've done something weird to your eyebrows," Liz said. Her eyes widened. "Are you dressed as _Spock_?" 

Jenna tried to give her the Vulcan salute, but her ring finger kept drifting wobbily over to join her middle finger. "Live long and prosper, earthling." 

"Don't even start with me," Liz said. "You don't even know anything about _Star Trek_." 

"Actually, I auditioned to star in J. J. Abram's _Star Trek_ reboot, but apparently they thought I was too young to play Spock's mother." 

"Of course," Liz said. "I seem to recall that they went with an extremely elderly actress instead." 

Jenna fluttered her eyelashes. "But to prepare for the audition, you know, I watched all the movies. You know, with the little teddy bears and glowing swords."

Liz smiled. "They must have been very impressed by your depth of knowledge."

"They were speechless," Jenna said gravely. "Just like I was that time that Mickey Rourke duct-taped my mouth shut and left me for dead in that Serbian basement." 

"Um, right," Liz said. "Look, Jenna...what is this all about?"

Jenna blinked at her. "As a native of the planet Vulcan, Liz, I am subject to a mating cycle--"

"No, no," Liz said hastily. "Not that part. I don't want to know about that part. But why are you guys doing this? What's going on? This all just seems so...frantic." 

Jenna's eyes went distant and misty. "Well, you know me and Paul," she said dreamily. "We always like a challenge."

"Okay, but--" Liz was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming overhead and Paul's voice ringing down the stairwell. 

"Dammit Jim," he was saying. "I'm a doctor, not a miracle-worker!" 

Jenna's face lit up. "Bye, Liz," she said. "Gotta run. May the Force be with you!" 

"Blerg," Liz said as the sound of Jenna's footsteps echoed down. "But you don't know...the power of the dark side..." She was turning her head when she caught a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. She froze and then began backing slowly out of the stairwell.

She kept walking backwards until she bumped into Kenneth. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kenneth said automatically as he staggered back. "That was my fault, and I--" 

"Kenneth," Liz hissed as she grabbed him by his shoulders. "Go call the maintenance department. Tell them that there's a python on the stairs." 

 

****

**HURT/COMFORT**

"I just don't see why you care so much, Lemon." Jack was standing at the window of his office and watching the sunset. Naturally, there was a glass of Scotch in his hand.

Liz bounced irritably on his office couch. "I just don't see why you _don't_ care at all," she said. "They've been a major disruption to office productivity, and I have to think that having sex _everywhere in the office building_ runs against some sort of employee-handbook rule."

Jack raised an eyebrow at her. "I don't understand why you're so concerned about Jenna and Paul. While certainly unappetizing to consider, their erotic inter-office coupling is a short-term problem at best." 

Liz snorted. "How can you know that? Maybe this is a taste of the future. We won't be able to turn a corner without finding them in the middle of some new sexual scavenger hunt." 

Jack shrugged. "Possibly. But consider what you know about Jenna and Paul." 

"Too much," Liz said darkly. "I know too much about them." 

"Then you should know that they crave novelty above all else," Jack said. "They're terrified of boredom and repetition. They love being on the experimental edge, but they would loathe to repeat an experiment twice."

"So what you're saying," Liz said, "is that once they get all these weird sex situations out of their system, they won't want to repeat them?"

"It's a distinct possibility," Jack said. "Of course, it's also possible that they'll discover something in this list that they genuinely love -- an actual _fetish_ to embrace -- and it will be part of their relationship thereafter." He swirled the liquid in his tumbler. "Perhaps 30 Rockefeller Plaza will become part of their permanent threesome." 

"Blerg," Liz said.

**MPREG**

It was late, and Liz wanted nothing more than to go home, curl up in her snuggie, and eat some fine cheese.

She locked her office door behind her and nodded at the man who was vacuuming the writer's room. She swung her purse over her shoulder and start striding purposefully down the hall and toward the elevators. 

Of course, it was too much to expect that she would actually be able to make her getaway. In front of the elevators, Paul was waiting. 

"Paul," she said guardedly. 

"Good evening, Liz," he said genially. He was wearing a sparkly black dress and high heels, and it was impossible for Liz not to notice that he was pregnant. 

Liz pressed the down button. "So," she said. "How far along are you?" 

Paul cupped his hand over the top of his belly. "Oh, with this one? I think this is one of the eight-month bellies. We had our pick from the props room, but we felt this was the best."

She glanced up at Paul. "So how much more of the list do you guys have left?"

"We're almost done," Paul said with a chuckle. 

"And has it been a good experience?" she asked dryly. 

"A memorable one, certainly," Paul said. "But then again, most things that I do with Jenna end up being memorable." 

Liz blinked, and the elevator doors opened. She pressed the button for the lobby, while Paul pressed the "2" button.

"Jenna is getting some prenatal vitamins from one of the secretaries," he said in explanation. 

"Of course," Liz said. "It's important to...keep up with your prenatal vitamins." 

"Iron deficiency is a constant concern," Paul said serenely, stroking the curve of his belly. 

"Have you thought of a name yet?" 

"We're still talking about it," Paul said. "I'm inclined towards a name from the family, but Jenna feels it's important that we choose a name that is memorable, in case our child should ever elect to become a life coach or a professional porn star." 

The elevator chimed as it came to a stop and its doors opened. 

"Well, this is my floor," Paul said, somewhat apologetically. "Have a good evening, Liz." 

Liz hesitated. "Paul, wait," she said, and then she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. The skin on his bare arms was warm, and his pregnant belly pressed comfortably against her stomach. "Paul, I just wanted to say thank you. I...I realize that I haven't been the most supportive person to all your endeavors, but I'm really thankful that Jenna has you. You're good for her." 

Paul chuckled. "Well, she is good for me, too." 

Liz pulled back and found Paul wiping at his eyes. "Sorry," he said with a tremor, "it's just...the baby...my emotions have been such a mess..." He smiled down at her and hastily thrust out a hand to keep the elevator doors from closing. "But I'm thankful, too, Liz, that Jenna has _you_." 

Liz laughed. "Well, that's good."

"And I shouldn't speak without Jenna here," Paul continued solemnly, "but I feel confident that, if you were ever interested in a threesome--" 

"Ha ha!" Liz said hastily. "Is that Jenna? I think I hear Jenna! You should go find Jenna now! Good night, Paul! There you go! Bye-bye!" 

But as it turned out, Jenna was not on the second floor, because Liz ran into her in the lobby. 

"Oh, hey, Liz," Jenna said. "Do you know where Paul is?"

"Uh, yeah, I left him on the second floor. He's looking for vitamins." 

Jenna gave an exasperated sigh. "That bitch in accounting thought I wanted ecstasy and was asking for it in some sort of coded language. _That_ took forever to sort out, and then I had to run to the pharmacy down the street and buy some actual vitamins." She patted her purse. 

Liz snorted. "Well, good, I'm glad that Paul's iron levels will be excellent. I'm surprised you guys are so into this pregnancy thing. I thought you didn't want kids." 

"Oh, I don't," Jenna said dismissively. "Can you imagine me having a child? What if the child was ugly? Or, even worse, what if the child was cuter than I was?" 

"I can't imagine," Liz said. 

"Exactly," Jenna said. "I would probably have to drown it either way, you know? But the fantasy, you know. The fantasy can be fun." 

"I see," Liz said. She took a deep breath. "Look, Jenna, I have not loved anything that happened today. But. I'm glad that you...hold this office in such high esteem that you were willing to include us in your most intimate relationship." 

"Well," Jenna said, screwing her mouth to one side, "I guess that's one way to look at it--" 

"That's the way I'm choosing to look at it," Liz said loudly. 

Jenna giggled. "I'm glad we're friends, Liz." 

"You know what?" Liz said. "Me too."

"Look at the two of us! We're like the non-lesbian version of _Rizzoli & Isles_!" 

"Uh, right," Liz said. 

"Hey, I should get going," Jenna said, looking toward the elevators. "I wouldn't want Paul to go into labor without me!" 

"Of course," Liz said. "Good night, Jenna."

"Good night, Liz!" 

In front of 30 Rockefeller Plaza, the night air was cold and held the edge of distant cigarette smoke. Liz reached into her purse -- and found a half-eaten Pop-Tart, carefully wrapped in a napkin. 

"Hornberger," she laughed. And then she bit into it and started walking in the direction of home. 

 

****

**COMPETENCE**

Jenna curled up against Paul's chest with a little sigh. "That was the last of them."

He wound his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. "You okay, baby?"

"Oh, yeah." She exhaled deeply. "You okay, baby?"

"Absolutely."

"Good."

"I love you."

"I know." She tilted her head back to look at him.

"We did good today."

"Yes. Yes, we did."

**Author's Note:**

> The first quarter of this story was written exactly a year ago; the rest was written in one caffeinated rush today. Because I am super good at planning things!
> 
> The Frasier/Ichabod Crane joke was totally stolen from _The Mindy Project_ and Google informs me that Tracy Morgan apparently owns an octopus in real life. 
> 
> The Hart Crane joke is mine alone, though.


End file.
